


Not Getting Off That Easy

by shakespearespaz



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s02e06 Dead Man Walking, F/M, M/M, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, a shit ton of teasing actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakespearespaz/pseuds/shakespearespaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles is thankful, Bass is a drugged little shit and Rachel gets what she wants and what she wants is to get laid. Set after Rachel fakes Bass' death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Getting Off That Easy

Rachel led Miles through the house by lamplight, unsure what he was thinking beneath his usual scowl. She had disturbed him from sleeping off far too many shots, and his confusion at being dragged beyond the gates and to an abandoned house in the morning dark was apparent.

Her heart sped up at the thought of telling Charlie, but that moment was not one that she could face yet. Rachel needed Miles alone first.

Bass registered that it was Miles immediately, smiling with a slurred “brother,” as Rachel bit her tongue. Neither were watching her as Miles burst into the shrouded room, but she had little time for their feelings; they both had other uses. Miles’ face drained and she wondered what it was like, to know for a second time that the loss he thought was permanent was only an illusion. The blank look stayed, just long enough for Rachel to fear before banishing the worry.

She hadn’t done it for him.

Still, his hand curled around hers and his lips found hers, hasty and violent and thankful. She wanted to press back, for them to forgive each other, to go back to a simpler time when they only fought over who would protect who. Instead she stayed slack, let him capture her with mild interest and soon pulled back.

“Rachel?”

“That’s not for me.”

“Like hell it is.”

“You’re still full of crap, Miles.”

“I can’t decide if you’re hotter arguing or making out.” Bass hoisted himself shakily onto his elbows, a delirious grin breaking through the remains of his haze. Rachel had stripped him from his sweaty and soiled clothes, but now he just looked gaunt and worn, barely able to lift himself. The wide beam of dingy white that broke across his face almost made up for the depleted look. Playful Bass she struggled to reconcile with the looming dictator or the tired fugitive; perhaps because it reminded her painfully of past they could never go back to and people they would never be again.

It lurched low in her; she wanted someone’s hands on her, gentle and caring, or rough, anything to make her forget the knot of confused longing she had just stoked.

“He’s still here,” Rachel reminded Miles, her throat suddenly dry. She knew what she wanted to suggest, but also knew that Miles would aim to ‘protect’ her, another of his pitiable, lovable traits.

“He’s still drugged,” Miles suggested, the corner of his mouth snaking up and his eyes locked on Rachel.  

Rachel yanked her head to Bass, lying vulnerable but intrigued. Miles wasn’t going to get off that easy.

“So you’ll take me here in a manly fashion as thanks for saving his ass?” she responded coldly, “Why don’t you just stick it in his ass?”

Rachel watched Miles’ eyebrows fly towards the ceiling and was glad years of throwing the truth at one another without mercy hadn’t rendered him null to her bluntness.

“First of all,” Bass mused distantly, sure he was part of the conversation, “I do hope he uses a more…skill than that. Second of all, you’re—you’re gold. Squishy gold…I don’t—I don’t want to leave you out…”

“He’s high as a kite, Miles.”

That didn’t stop Miles’ eyes from growing black in the dim light.

“Seriously, you’re turned on by squishy gold?”

She had more to say but his hand captured a lock of hers, twisting it playfully.

“It was a compliment. Cut him some slack. He just died.” His head snuck in rapidly beside her ear, private. “Besides, I think you want him to watch.”

Rachel hesitated; it had been the latest discovery between them before the Blackout cut short everything, that there was little she liked more than Miles’ dirty mutterings. She felt him pause too, worried that he’d just shattered all their rehashed awkward moments as they cautiously found their feet again.

Rachel let her head fall into Miles’ cupping hand. She leaned in to match him.

“If I saved his ass, then I get a piece of it.”

“Only fair.”

Miles’ hand buried itself in hair and he leaned forward, his breath tickling her pursing lips.

“I think he deserves a little teasing first.”

Rachel could do little but nod as his mouth clamped on hers. His hand trailed down from her head and she wrapped one arm around back of his neck to get a better angle. Bass was almost forgotten.

His fingers curled tightly, mindlessly around her bicep though. She let out a small noise and his wet mouth grew cold as she pulled away.

“Rachel?”

“Sorry, it’s sore. I had to drag him here myself. He’s not made of air."

“Yeah, well I’m bruised,” Bass moaned from the bed, “because you’re clumsy as hell. I can’t mooove.”

Suddenly Rachel was gone from Miles’ embrace, a few steps to the ruined mattress and the sheet thrown off. Bass curled up, exposed in his well worn briefs.

“I can put you right back in that hole if that’s what you want.”

“No, ma’am,” he gulped. His terror was momentarily as he resumed his complaints. “It’s coold.”

The heavy weight of Miles’ arm around Rachel’s waist surprised her.

“Let’s not warm him up just yet.”

The pads of his fingers tickled against her stomach as his hand snaked up and under the grey shirt to unhook her bra. They engaged in an interesting dance, Miles fumbling with one near useless hand and Rachel trying not to elbow him in the side as he slid the worn straps down her arms. Finally, she was freed and Bass watched them childlike from the bed, his blue eyes as sharp as they could be in the dimmed light as Miles’ nimble hand massaged her breast beneath the cotton, made all the more tantalizing by the masked view. He could only watch Rachel’s eyes fight to stay open, wanting to lose herself, but also unable to ignore his own gaze.

Rachel let out a soft sigh and Miles felt an overwhelming surge of love and protectiveness. To see her trust him and feel her relax into his arms left him with a responsibility he wasn’t sure he was ready for. If he—and Bass, he supposed—were to let this fractured genius back in, back to a place that had near broken her before, he was going to be careful. Rachel had done as they all had and build a fortress around herself that had only recently begun to erode. He wouldn’t hurt her further and he sure as hell wouldn’t let Bass push her into a relapse.

“Miles,” she cooed under her breath, and he rested his head against her shoulder to better hear this miraculous, complicated, fragile creature. “Would you hurry up and screw me?”

His body had a response to that. 

Apparently so did Bass’ and he watched as Rachel fixated on the tent in his boxers. She ground back against Miles a few times, each rub of the rough fabric doing him no favors.

“Rachel,” he warned through gritted teeth.

She turned. Slightly chilly hands grasped the edges of his thin shirt, pausing to let his weapon and holster drop the floor, as Miles tried to untangle himself from her. She wrenched upward and the shirt came free.

“Take off her—” Bass had to stop and think for a minute about the word. “—pants.”

Rachel twisted to roll her eyes at him, but Miles had found her belt buckle already and lowered her not ungently to the mattress so he could rid her of them, shoes and socks following in on swift movement.

“Underwear too,” Bass tried, with hope.

“Not yet,” Rachel snapped at him.

Bass sunk back down and watched as Miles gathered her head in his hands again, found her lips and helped her fall back against the bed. Bass understood the appeal and damn they looked good together. Miles was not a small man, but Rachel matched him, legs twisting around his jeans, slender hands finding his shoulders and small of his back. They moved together, passionate and starved. He couldn’t decide if he like watching Rachel or Miles more. Miles was familiar, slightly gaunt, rough around the edges and imperfect but _his_ Miles. Rachel was like a dancer, long and graceful, but with the sort of strength imbued beauty that reminded you that she could snap your neck if she really wanted.

Bass let his hand wander down to free his straining cock, but an aggressive grunt from the two at the foot of the bed stopped him.

“Not yet, Bass,” came Miles’ winded voice, “You don’t get to touch yourself.”

“Are you two gonna hurry up then?”

Rachel rolled out from under Miles and crawled across the bed, throwing two perfect, long legs on either side of him and planting herself firmly on his waist. Wetness had soaked through her underwear already and Bass was glad he was coherent enough to feel her warmth against the stale, uncomfortable air.

“We’ll take as long as we like,” she said flatly, an eyebrow creeping up.

Bass tried to lift his arm to reach the pale face dominating his view, golden curls dangling in front of him in the dim light as she looked down. He wasn’t quite strong enough yet and Rachel grasped his pathetic hand tightly in hers and brought it deliberately to her breast.

She forced him to squeeze, but he resisted, simply cupping her through her shirt and clumsily running his finger over her nipple. He wanted to be under the obtrusive curtain of the shirt, where Miles had been, to make her melt the way he had. Bass extended his fingers to pull her closer, knotting them in the fabric and letting his arm fall. She fumbled forward to unlatch him and instead keeled, her warm weight and the soft mane of hair fanning across his sore and useless muscles.

He hardly had time to celebrate his victory. He felt Miles hook his fingers under the waist band of his boxers and yank down roughly, but Bass welcomed the freedom.

Compared to black nothingness of death, the sensations almost overcame his still struggling brain. Rachel lay on top of him, knees tucked around his waist, wet and warm and messy and suffocating and every breath he drew in and out tickled a gold lock against his bare skin. Beneath her was naked though, exposed to the air, except where he felt Miles’ hot mouth wrap around his cock, oscillating slowly but predictably.

“Told you we’d get to you,” Rachel murmured in his ear, before dragging her hand through his greasy curls and yanking his head up to suck and nip at the exposed neck.

He couldn’t see either of them, but the connection was too overwhelming. Miles pulled away as Bass’ breathing grew shallow too quickly and lamented that he couldn’t make him come in his mouth, like his favorite stolen moments from before.

Instead Miles offered a blunt, “Your turn, Rache.”

She pushed up off the body she had collapsed on top of and scooted down, letting herself drag over Bass. She felt Miles guide her, large hands splayed across her hips as she sat upright. His good arm wrapped around her again; this time his fingers dipped into underwear.

“Lean over,” he spoke in her ear, loud enough that Bass caught it and moaned.

“Pants, Miles,” she reminded.

“I hadn’t forgotten.”

“Condom—”

He stopped, but then resumed. “I don’t have one.”

“I do.”

“You what?”

Bass laughed despite his overdue erection.

“Rachel, you’re always prepared—you’re like a goddamn…”

While he was searching for the term, she forced herself out of Miles’ grasp for a second time, striding across the room to the worn pack she’d brought. The bag yielded two new condoms, and Rachel stood, displaying the bright, out of place wrappers.

“It’s a wonder my father still had some.”

Rachel flipped them in between her fingers playfully, wondering how long it would take Miles to catch on that she was teasing him. Bass’ cock still stood yearning at attention after all and it wasn’t making Rachel any drier.

“Rachel, get your ass back over here or so help me—”

“Not just yet.”

She paused and leaned over agonizingly slowly to deliberately set the condoms down. She then grasped the edges of her shirt and stripped it off.

Miles had missed everything about their trysts, but most of all he’d missed Rachel standing in front him, unashamed and bare. She’d never understood how stunning she was—at least that was what he assumed. She rested two wide blue eyes on him, challenging.

“See something you like?”

Miles forced himself to focus. Rachel wouldn’t let up on the mind games even now.

“Nothing I haven’t seen—had—before.” Given his present condition, Miles mentally congragulated himself for his passable retort.

She turned back to the bag, taking her time yet again.

“Yes, Rachel, breasts. They’re pretty,” sang Bass from his still helpless position, “Can we get on with it?”

Miles thought for a moment that Bass had managed to pry a snicker from Rachel, but he was past the point of really wanting to think at all.

“I want both of you,” she declared, taking a step back towards the bed with a small container in her hand.

She was at the bed again without preamble, her hand down Miles’ pants.

“Rachel…”

She brought his cock out, only pushing aside the heavy fabric and cotton that she needed, and Miles thanked the freedom from the constricting pants. His hand wrapped around hers around him and while he wanted the sensation to never stop, he found a condom forced unceremoniously into his hand. He took the condom and lube from her.

“Shall we try this again?” he managed to ask.

“Don’t hurt me,” she warned and stole a kiss before pivoting with little grace to face Bass again.

Bass watched as she unwrapped her condom and unrolled it swiftly over his leaking erection. Placing her hands on either side of his torso, she propped herself up on knees. She drew a sharp breath in through her teeth and Bass struggled to see, barely making out Miles behind her.

Rachel felt Miles circle her entrance with his finger, one, then two; he was generous with the lube but this was foreign.

“Rachel, relax,” he muttered and she took another deep breath, letting him push inside with two fingers. “I’m coming in next.”

She forced herself to continue breathing as his mass replaced his hand. He was wide; not nearly as wide as Bass, who remained ready beneath her, but large enough for her to feel it every time he pushed in a little more. Rachel couldn’t suppress a moan.

“Miles—”

“You okay?”

“Put Bass in.”

Miles reached around, as carefully as he could while buried in Rachel, and gathered the man’s cock. He moved he and Rachel as one unit, his injured arm wrapped tightly around her waist, supporting her, the other hand guiding Bass gently into the slickness between his fingers. With small movements at first, Rachel began to rock them against Bass.

Each movement brought the smallest ache of pain, but pleasure pulsed through her, warm, building and overdue. She knew the boys would come first though and she held on, clinging to Miles’ arm.

Bass only lasted moments, the longest denied and his body could do little more than spasm against the bed, as Rachel felt him surge inside her. Over her shoulder Miles watched, watched as his friend’s tired eye fluttered closed in satisfaction and his body breathed out the last ounce of tension.

Miles withdrew the arm that Rachel was not using to steady herself and reached to find her clit. He circled it a few times which Rachel responded to with a pleased moan, but Miles was not far behind Bass. Miles followed quickly, doing his best to hold the quaking Rachel as she came, collapsing forward across Bass.

With Rachel finished, he let himself empty. Ignoring the sticky mess gluing them together, he sprawled forward over the two. Rachel surprised him by giggling.

“That was weird. And good,” she announced before falling silent.

Miles wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, Bass on the verge of either sleeping or passing out and Rachel lying tangled between then. She finally began to pick sweaty limbs apart, but Miles stopped her.

She was supposed to hate these men; she couldn’t explain why being caught in their arms made the guilt lessen. She could not ruin them, she supposed, they all had fallen far enough on their own. 

Miles’ arm tightened around her waist and she let herself relax. The sun had crept through the dingy, ancient curtains, and while the room was dusty and the exposed mattress prickly, the warm skin flush against her was familiar and safe. 

Bass’ scratchy voice sounded from his shadow.

“Thank you, Rachel.”

The bastard was being sentimental and if it had been any other time and place, she would have smacked him with his own pillow.

Instead she simply sighed, “We need to go tell Charlie,” and proceeded to stay curled where she was.

She wanted a moment more. 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is probably not in character at all, especially given the complexities of Rachel saving Bass ie threesome probably not where that event was headed but...everywhere can be headed towards sex if you try hard enough! Also please forgive me for any beginner mistakes; I’m slowly increasing the explicit smuttiness of my written sexy times bit by bit.


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